


Resistance

by 4getfulimaginator



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Companion Piece, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forced Marriage, Sex, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Smut, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:04:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5796220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4getfulimaginator/pseuds/4getfulimaginator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Companion chapter to my fic, Trader of Hearts.</b>  </p><p>No one said the path to true love is easy - and it's especially hard for Emma and Killian, who need to let go of their past history and move on with their lives as husband and wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resistance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatsmuchbetter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsmuchbetter/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Trader of Hearts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2464238) by [4getfulimaginator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/4getfulimaginator/pseuds/4getfulimaginator). 



> A/N: A late holiday present for my dear friend and staunch supporter, **thatsmuchbetter** , because she loves this AU universe - I hope you enjoy this little one-shot, set in future time after the ToH epilogue. 
> 
> Chapter title is inspired by the song "Resistance" by the awesome band Muse.

_Being pampered is going to take some getting used to_ , was all she could think.

Private jets and yachts, luxury resorts, famous locales.

It was all so new to a girl who had spent most of her life behind closed doors, able to see only a foot in front of her. She still couldn't grasp that he had this much money, that they could afford all _this_. He was lavishing her with jewels, expensive clothes, premiere cosmetics ― everything currency could buy ― and she just...

She didn't know _how_ to accept these gifts. He said they were a token of his love; that as her husband, he had every right to pamper her.

_You can take the girl out of poverty, but you can't take poverty out of the girl._

The white silk robe felt foreign against her skin, too smooth and subtle. That one time she had complained that the garment was overly luxurious, he had casually mentioned that she was free to walk around their suite naked, if she preferred.

 _Two can play at that game_ , she'd retorted back. She knew all too well what bared skin and ready lips led to.

Ever since their wedding night, they had kept their distance from each other. Brick by brick, a wall of silence was built between them, amid the flurry of escape and the tension surrounding it.

Gold was out of the goddamn picture. But Cora was still out there, vengeful and dangerous.

No one could blame her, Killian least of all, for being antsy about the future. Where was time for sex when they needed to stay alive and be quick on their feet?

Still, their unresolved relationship didn't mean they weren't sleeping in the same bed or seeing each other undress. Or that she hadn't caught her _husband_ staring at her butt.

If only feelings could be easily set aside. She would rather give up that kind of pleasure altogether than face what was stirring in her heart.

Forgiveness was a hard lesson to learn. Several orgasms couldn't change the fact that Killian had lied to her. And while she understood why, that didn't make the truth any better. Without him, she was all alone. She didn't like that he held that kind of power over her ― to lift her up or let her fall.

"Looks like we're headed for stormy weather," came his soft drawl, husky and breathless from climbing the stairs. He never took elevators, insisting the bloody contraption was too small a space. "The room is paid up until the end of the month, and the housekeeping knows better than to disturb us."

The door shut closed, and there was a rustle of cloth, emphasizing that he was a few feet away, inhaling the same air and hearing her frantic heartbeat.

Indeed, the tree branches brushing the nearest window were swaying from a sudden onslaught of wind, gusting back and forth as if the room were a ship on the distant sea. She could just make out the horizon, cloudy and spotted with turbulent colors of purple and smoky gray. Would thunder and lightning come next, condemning them to stay within this room, unable to avoid each other?

She couldn't help the cowardice, utter cowardice, that made her bite her tongue. She didn't know what the hell to say to him. Small talk? They had never been any good at that. This entire trip was based on an elaborate escape route, where they had to cover their real tracks and leave a messy trail of false ones in order to evade Cora once and for all.

The silence between them lasted a minute longer before he interrupted it. "Is there a reason you do not wish to speak to me?"

"No reason." She shrugged, continuing to face the window.

"Really? Because talking to your back instead of your face is quite telling, love."

The satin nightgown she was wearing was suddenly itchy and uncomfortable.

"Here." He threw a set of documents at her. They fluttered onto her side of the bed. "Take half the money ― take all of it, if you wish. This is the information you need to withdraw money from the Swiss account."

"There are others?"

"Aye, I have several in the Caribbean, gathering interest since my days before Gold. But this one is a major stash. You will never want for anything, for the rest of your life."

Her lips curled in disgust. "Blood money, you mean."

"No, good money, money that will furnish all your needs. Money that can give you the freedom to be whoever you want to be." His desperation to convince her of something that didn't benefit him at all was rather touching. But it might be a deception, like everything else they'd shared in the past.

"Well," Emma cleared her throat, "I don't need your money. I'll find work."

"With Cora on the loose, hunting for you?" he replied, sounding incredulous. "A life on your own requires adequate protection, and I'm giving you the means to that." His tone hardened. "Don't be a fool, lass. The money is as much yours as it is mine. Take it."

His sense of command rubbed at her insides and made her lungs burn. "I won't."

"Why do you resent it? Do you refuse the money because it was once only mine?"

"I hate it because you killed people to earn it," Emma seethed.

His voice softened when he said, "Aye...there are many things I've done in my life that I'm not proud of. Cruel, vicious things. I was a robber and a murderer. I was every bit the villain."

"So why ask me to believe in you now?" she retorted, flinging the papers at his feet. "You're asking me to believe that you've changed in a matter of months?"

"You did, once. You believed I was worthy of love. I have always believed in you, Emma."

Her eyelids stung, and she tasted salt in her mouth, moist and sharp. He still had the ability to make her feel too much and turn her own heart against her.

"Did you kill my parents?" she whispered, her words echoing in the silent room. "Was anything true, anything you told me before?"

He hung his head, rubbing at the back of his neck. When he finally met her gaze, the regret in his eyes took her breath away. "No, I did not. Gold probably did the job himself, to prevent any witnesses. I never knew about any of this until the day he told me about you." A haggard sigh later, he finished, "But I'm guessing you won't accept that no matter what I say now."

Emma choked on a sob, crossing her arms over her chest to hold the tears in. "One picture. That's all I have left of them. I thought they'd come back for me someday, that they were mistaken about leaving me behind." She wiped at her eyes in an attempt to smother another sob. "But they're dead and buried. I can never meet them. I can never tell them how much I've needed them, how much I miss them."

"I would never murder an innocent, Emma." His hands paused in midair, waiting, before they smoothed over her shoulders. "I may be the worst scoundrel, but I do have a code I live by. I still believe in justice, in doing the right thing. In being a part of something other than myself."

"You don't believe in love anymore? After Milah?" Her skin betrayed her, aching for more of his touch.

"I still do," he murmured by her ear. "The day she died, I died. I worked for Gold to save my own skin, to survive. I didn't want to. I hated him, seeing that smug smile of his after that merciless crocodile forced me to kill his own wife, the mother of his child. I wanted to gut him when he threatened you. All these wasted years have been a slavery."

"A rich slavery," she countered.

"Aye, but an empty one." The back of his hand gently caressed her cheek. "I never wanted to hurt you, lass. Far from it."

She shrugged out of his hold. "It's always words with you," she grumbled. "Words that can easily be lies."

"Then I guess you'll just have to trust me."

She would have laughed out loud if the way he said that wasn't completely heartrending ― if he wasn't looking so fucking sincere and handsome at the same time.

When they first landed in Greece, making their way north through Western Europe, he was clean-shaven for the first time since she had met him. They both got haircuts as well. Her shoulder length, golden waves were dyed a muddled brown. As soon as Killian was certain they wouldn't be recognized, she dyed her hair back to blonde.

It was enough that she felt uncomfortable and insecure around her own husband. She didn't need the sensation that she was living out of her skin, a stranger in her own body.

A man like Killian Jones attracted the stares of women ― women of all ages, who sat around them in restaurants and cafes, or passed by them while they were walking down the street. Would she be enough for a man like him for the rest of his life?

Would he be enough for her?

Emma crouched down and reached for the discarded documents. Fingering through them, she saw a blur of numbers and letters, all coming together to spell out comfort, freedom, and security. Three things you could never be certain about, no matter how much money you had.

He was right: she could simply take her share and leave, if she was so unhappy. Does she stay because she's afraid of being alone? Or because...?

The sigh that left her chest came out with a long shudder, one that echoed deeply down to her bones. If she was afraid of being left alone, she would never have had the guts to emerge from her shell of a life in the Mills Soiree and take a chance on the man in front of her. She had loved him, and made love to him, without fear.

It wasn't underlying resentment pounding at the bottom of her heart. It was an agonizing realization: that loving him so much meant forgiving him so much, though that might be wrong.

Hugging the papers, she stalked over to the chest in the corner, with its elaborate combination lock. Inside it were all her worldly possessions. Opening the lid, she deposited the information in a safe spot and then locked it away. Not even Killian knew the right combination. This way, there would be no risk on her part if he decided to make a run for it later. He might be quick, but she was quicker. After all, it was her idea how to take down Gold with as little bloodshed as possible.

When she stood up and turned to look at him, he was already undressing, with his back facing her. Off came the tie, then his shirt and his belt. There was no hesitation in his movements when he stripped off his pants and socks, leaving only his black boxer briefs on.

She heard him mutter "I'm going to go ahead and take a shower" before he marched into their lavish bathroom and slammed the door.

Seems she wasn't the only one growing impatient with the rut their lives had fallen into.

Not to mention that they were both sexually frustrated these days. She'd seen the obvious bulge in his underwear before he had taken off.

Emma did not want to imagine a naked Killian Jones in the shower. They were not only married to each other, but...she was kind of used to getting laid almost every other night, thanks to the asshole who had just turned his back on her.

Biting at her bottom lip, Emma yanked off her robe and tossed it at the wall. Under her nightgown was sheer lace underwear ― you could never be too careful when wearing white ― and she didn't know what to do with herself. She finally wrenched the stupid, proper thing off her and threw it in the direction of the closed door. It fell short of the intended target by several feet.

She probably sounded like a brat to him, didn't she? Pouting because she couldn't get her own way, stubborn as hell because she didn't want to admit that she has forgiven him everything. That he doesn't need to buy her forgiveness. She cannot stop loving him any more than she can stop breathing.

Already, she felt her nipples tighten, a hunger awakening between her thighs. How many countless nights had they denied themselves pleasure?

Sex brought them together, but they wouldn't still be here if it was the only thing uniting them.

There had to be a breakthrough. She needed him, more than money or a lonely life without his love. He hadn't changed. He was the same man ― still as loving and giving and understanding. She had accepted him in the past, before any revelations.

She had to let go of her grudges. She could learn how, slowly but surely.

* * *

The bathroom door burst open, letting out a stream of heavy steam. "Darling, could you please throw me my―?"

Her tender muscles started to throb at the sight of him, nude and glistening, his open mouth and wide eyes telling her exactly what he thought of her little display.

She dared to look down. His cock was becoming erect.

"Just what the bloody hell are you playing at, Emma?" he hissed.

She felt rather aroused herself ― and _quite_ daring. Raising an eyebrow, she countered, "Ever heard of a towel, Captain?"

He pointed at the armchair, where several towels were laid out. Her cheeks started to burn.

He clenched his jaw before saying, "I may have no scruples about continually watching you beat my bloody heart into a pulp with your icy words, but you know better than to test my self-control."

"Is that a threat?" she scoffed. "Seeing your wife in her underwear is threatening?"

"Very." He licked at his lips, his gaze predatory. "Because it brings to mind so many memories. So many delicious memories ― of us. Memories that just got me off in the shower."

"Damn it, Killian." Her mind was still resisting, but she was going to do this. She was going to take that leap of faith and snatch her happiness back with both hands, no matter how pissed off he was.

When he sidled up to her, his body heat was overwhelming. His skin would feel so warm and solid against hers, pressing into her curves. She would fill his edges, satisfy his desires... He was right next to her, inches away, and yet not close enough. She wanted to touch him, and for him to touch her ― but he had to show her he wanted her back.

He inhaled right by her ear. "As tempting as ever, my sweet, sweet Emma," he breathed out. "Why do you torture me so?"

His hands circled her hips. His lips parted slightly as he leaned forward. He was hesitating.

Looks like she would have to take the initiative herself.

Emma ran her hands down his sides, sliding her palms over his hips and then over his ass. She only paused for a second before cupping both cheeks and squeezing them. Based on his groans, she started to massage them, working out a rhythm.

"I hope," his voice wavered, lustful and throaty, "I hope you know what you're doing, lass."

"Hell yes." She moved in closer, until the tip of his cock was rubbing her inner thigh. Thrusting her hips forward, she stood up on her tiptoes to nibble on his neck.

Her head was suddenly pulled back by a forceful hand. Two soulful eyes were fixed on her face. "I thought you hated me."

"No. I thought I did, but I was dead wrong." Gently, she brushed her fingers over his jawline, outlined again with stubble. "Don't you know, Killian? You're my happy ending. You always have been."

All she heard was a wild moan before his lips captured hers, claiming a fierce victory.

Their wedding night had been hurried, needy, and rough. This time was little different, except that there was no cloud of doom hanging over their heads, no Cora and Gold listening through virtual keyholes to make sure they were as miserable as possible.

She was probably just as desperate as he was.

His teeth grazed her neck while his hands got busy, tugging down a scrap of lace to expose one of her breasts. His mouth swiftly transferred to its new prospect, suckling her tender nipple hard. God, it was fucking _great_ ―

"Killian," she moaned, clutching at his hair to keep his head in place. "Yes, _yes_ ―"

"More?" he whispered against her skin, licking at the swollen bud.

" _Yes._ " She whimpered when he continued to milk her breast, doing wicked things with those thorough lips and tongue―

He muttered under his breath, "So beautiful, darling," before tearing off her flimsy bra completely and switching to the other breast.

Somehow, in a blur of grasping limbs and hungry lips, they pushed themselves toward the gigantic bed and managed to fall down on it.

When she wound her arms around his neck, burying her tongue in his mouth in a bruising kiss, her breasts pressed up against his chest, and she could feel his groans vibrate into her skin. One hand ran down her thigh and curved it around his waist, while the other sneaked to her behind and pulled her panties off. His fingers then reached her wet heat, circling around it before he plunged one finger in and soothed her throbbing cunt with careful thrusts.

"Fuck, Emma," he grunted, "has no sex for all these months made you so bloody tight?"

She buried her face in his neck. "What do you think?" she murmured, kissing up his throat. "I've been dying to have you in me again. Seeing you sleep naked right next to me for so long was seriously fucked up."

"You have no idea, sweetheart." Steadying his hands on her hips, he looked at her, then down at the apex of her thighs. "Do you want me to―?" he smirked, licking at his lips and raising an eyebrow.

"You've got to be kidding me." With methodical slowness, she lined him up at her entrance, her nails digging into the firm cheeks of his ass as she gathered him inside. "I...need...just...this..."

"Fuck, I need you too, love," he moaned, timing his thrusts with hers. "Missed you so bloody much."

An animalistic cry escaped her lips, fucking wanton and hoarse, when his rigid cock rubbed against her walls and hit her secret spots. The bed was soon shaking under them. She locked her ankles under his ass in a tight hold and encouraged him to pound into her.

"Yes, Killian, _fuck me_ , fuck me so _hard_ ― _yes_ , damn it _yes_ ," she yelled, arching her neck. Her hands grabbed at his shoulders for support.

Smiling at her reaction, he latched onto her breast again, feasting on the hardened peak. It provoked her into early orgasm, a powerful one that swept through her like the gust of rain blasting at the windows of their room. Her silent scream intensified when he picked up the pace, mouthing at her other breast.

"No," she protested, stilling her hips. "No, not like this."

He looked totally shocked. She took advantage of that and rolled them over.

Now she could arch her back, let her thighs squeeze his, take in his cock as far as it would go. Her breasts bounced freely up and down, flushed pink and nipples reddened. No doubt she looked properly fucked, wild hair draping over her shoulders and vulgar words streaming out of her bruised mouth.

"Not that I'm complaining, lass," he thrust up for emphasis, "but please hurry."

"Come the fuck up here, then." She continued to ride him roughly.

He did. When his hands cupped her breasts, it took so much composure not to beg him to pleasure them again. But he knew exactly what she liked anyway. He massaged them, gentle squeezing that carried just a hint of possessiveness, while he nipped at her neck.

_Mine. These are mine. You are mine._

"Almost there?" she purred, lifting her head to stare deeply into his striking gaze. It tore at her soul.

His thrusts slowed down before his back suddenly arched. " _Emma_ ," he cried out. His fingers sought out her clit and stroked it.

" _Killian_. Oh my god, Killian. I love you," she sobbed, unable to hold herself back any longer. The overwhelming flood of renewed pleasure destroyed her restraint. "I've always loved you. Please don't leave me."

"Never," he promised.

Despite the haze of sex filling the air, she really believed that.

So far, he had kept every single promise.

* * *

It was still storming like a bitch outside several hours later.

But she was safe and dry in his arms, curled up like a kitten on the bed, bodies entwined together as he caressed her back.

"Better?" He gave her a long, leisurely kiss, one that knocked the wind out of her.

"Yeah," she said afterwards, rubbing at her lips. "But..."

"Aye, darling?"

"You never said it back. What I said." She hid her face in his chest.

His fingers played with hair at the nape of her neck. "I thought it was obvious."

"Obvious?" she repeated, incredulous. If he was fucking with her...

"Emma." His tone was teasing, gentle. "I will love you until the end of time. Nothing could be stronger than my feelings for you. Did you really think I'd drop you and leave the moment there were no obstacles? That your ire would turn me away from you?"

"No, but―"

"No buts. When I married you, it wasn't just for show. I meant every word I said, every vow. Didn't you?"

"Yes, of course I did!" She swatted at his shoulder. "A girl likes to be reassured, though, that she's still wanted."

"And are you? Reassured? Confident? Happy?"

Finally, the rain had died down into a small drizzle, and the sky had begun to turn red. The storm was ending.

Looking back at their history and how much they'd survived through, she was pretty positive there wasn't anything they couldn't weather, as long as they were together.

"Yes." She beamed at him, leaning in for another kiss. "Now I _know_ I am."

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! For news about my original fiction and other updates, please visit [my writing blog](https://nataliathewriter.blogspot.com).


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